


Where We Belong

by igrab



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Troll Culture, Trollstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrab/pseuds/igrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story isn't actually about them, though. This story is about the third princess, and you. Your name is Dirrik Stridr, you're a bronzeblood, and it all starts when you meet Roxana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take These Stones Away

**Author's Note:**

> welp. 
> 
> many more pairings to follow, of all sorts of quadrants - the shipping, meenah! the SHIPPING! i cannot, i have lost the ability to can.
> 
> basically everyone is trolls and beforus and alternia hatebanged each other into a new universe or something something incestuous slurry i'm not clever

This story could've been very different. A game might've been played, maybe. Some universes might've gotten tangled up and chewed on and spat back out and who knows, maybe some weird new world would've been created, where the dominant species didn't even have horns. That would've been really weird! And totally improbable. But anyway, the only game that the young troll princesses of Proxis played was 'how do I hold all these cuttlefish', and even though Meenah thought it was a big dumb waste of her time, she must have had a hidden streak of blood pity for Feferi, because she never actually tried to abscond.

+

Her Imperial Illumination, or, the Illumine for short, spent most of her time off-planet, leaving the pair of girls to their shared lusus. She hadn't even reacted, really, to the news that two fuschia-blooded grubs had been hatched in the same brood; but then, the Illumine was much too busy seeing to the Empire's important missions of expansion and the betterment of galactic civilization. Countless planets had already been absorbed into the Empire's vast network, benefiting from their advanced technology, superior resources, and efficient government. These things were much more important than the prospect of two heirs, instead of the predicted one.

Also, the royal consorts all agreed that the likelihood that both would survive to adulthood was extremely low. Considering how little the Illumine's flush and ash consorts agreed on anything, she considered the matter closed.

At one perigee to ten sweeps, though, the authorities had to conclude that Meenah and Feferi were survivors, each strong in her own right, and each with utterly different criticisms of the Empire's regime. This was seen most clearly in the titles they took for themselves, as they emerged from the pod rooms at the completion of their adult molt.

Feferi believed that the Illumine's policy of non-interference was not nearly enough. She had an insatiable urge to protect and care for those lesser than herself, and it was important to her that such personal and intimate cosseting should extend to every creature under the Empire's care. She called herself the Culltive, a sly dig at the current practice of 'culling', which pertained the allocation of personnel and resources to maximize productivity. Usually, this meant that trolls with disabilities were kept out of important and dangerous jobs, and given tasks more suited to their inferior status. Feferi, one day yearning to be known as Her Imperial Culltivation, was going to make sure that those in need would never want for _anything_.

Meenah, on the other hand, thought both definitions of cull to be a bunch of bullcrab. She'd crunched the numbers; the amount of lives lost trying to be _diplomatic_ was stupid and insane and totally unnecessary. Ain't it a sayin' that the best defense is a good offense? Meenah was certain that if the Empire had a policy of offending, no one would even bother messin' wit them in the first place, and they could just march in and take over the planet instead of spendin' years of troll hours and slave lives tryin' to get the 'annexed' territories to sign over their rights and shit. Like, why even bother lyin' about it? The end result was always gonna be the same. She called herself the Condesce, short for Condescension - because not only did she believe she was better than everyone else (and that trolls as a whole were better than other species, and so on and so forth), but she wasn't willing to pretend she wasn't. Show me a troll that don't care about blood color, she said. Show me a troll that don't know that some things are just built to be superior.

Feferi told her that she was COMPL-ET-ELY R-EDICULOUS and started calling her _Imperious_ , instead of Imperial.

Meenah liked it.

+

This story isn't actually about them, though. This story is about the third princess, and you. Your name is Dirrik Stridr, you're a bronzeblood, and it all starts when you meet Roxana.

+

You notice her because you aren't a complete idiot, for one. "Are you following me??" you finally have to say, snapping a little, turning and facing your shadow with much more bravado than you actually feel. You've been alone for a long time, but something happened recently, made you move to the city, and the sheer population density and proximity of other trolls is freaking you the fuck out.

"Haha... noep," a voice says - slurs, rather, and to your eminent fucking shock, none other than a goddamn fish troll comes stumbling out of the woodwork. Jegus fucking shit on a shit stick. What in troll hell is a seadweller doing out here? Especially all.. young. And inebriated.

"Are you _drunk??_ "

It occurs to you that you probably shouldn't be taking that tone with royalty, but wow, look at all the fucks you give. Oh wait, there aren't any. You weren't raised in a hoofbeastshack but a stilts hive out in the marshes wasn't exactly much better. 

Luckily, the fish troll girl seems amused by you, rather than supremely fucking offended. Actually, she's more than amused, she's laughing like you're the best thing she's heard, ever, and though you're like 98% sure it's because she's three coonhusks to the wind, it's still sort of... nice.

"Yesh," she declares, quite happily, then falls flat on her face in a dead slumber.

Well, shitheaps. The wise fucking choice would be to abscond right now, right the _fuck_ now, but you know in your dumb blood pump chest sponge that you would feel guilty as fuck leaving anyone to the night terrors, but especially a fish troll. No, scratch that - especially _her_. You don't even know her name but she's already italicized in your head. She's already important.

+

You take her back to your hivestem and your blockmate shrieks like a dying bird.

"What did you _do?!_ "

Of fucking course he thinks you _did_ something. Of course. Little shit. You slide her into your 'coon, clothes and all, because sopor washes out easier than serious fucking embarrassment. Dev is still making bird noises. You consider just letting him wonder, for a second, but (loath as you are to admit such a thing) you're not that much of a dick.

"Can it, shortstack," you drawl. "I'm seriously fucking insulted that you think I'd be sleazy enough to hatebang a fishtroll, I mean, come on, I'm not that kind of girl, Dev."

Dehvid Stridr, or just Dev, makes a little trill of a huff sound and tosses his head, his horns making him unbalance a bit before he gets himself back in line. He's got some pretty sick handlebars going on up there, but he hasn't grown into them yet, and it makes him do dumb things like misjudge doorways and fall asleep upside-down. You pity him, a lil bit, but it's not like that. You don't really have a word for how you feel about your signbrother. It doesn't fit into any of the quadrants.

When he's older, you'll ask him if he wants to be crew. It's the closest thing you can think of. Only if that's how it works out, though, only if the two of you actually fall in together. You're not gonna pressure him with shit like that. Whatever. He's just Dev.

He snorts and flips you off and you figure that's all that needs to be said on the matter.

+

This story is also about a different you. You and Dirrik have a few things in common - you grew up alone, too, isolated on an island for sweeps and sweeps; you both like fighting and take pride in your physical prowess; and now, you both know Roxana.

You didn't grow up entirely alone, at least. You had Becquerel. For a while you had your bloodsister, Jeyden, but she left sweeps ago to build her chrysalis for her adult molt. She promised you'd see each other again, but you weren't surprised when she never returned. Every troll knows that hitting adulthood means changes. Big changes. There's a reason they call them pupa promises, the ones you never intend to keep.

But it's soon after that that you meet Roxana, as suddenly and serendipitously as Dirrik does, perigees later. You're minding your own business, hunting down wild beasts and wrestling them into submission - which is your favorite kind of business - when you see an unfamiliar lusus spring from the underbrush, headed for your chest.

You are too surprised to lash out. (Later, you berate yourself tirelessly for being such a terrible exploreranger. Caught off guard! So _very_ off guard that it's a dangblasted miracle that you're still alive, chum!) The lusus - small and feline - hits your chest and you go down, fully expecting to feel white claws digging into your jugular, signaling the beginning of the end.

Instead, the creature licks your face.

Stunned, you lie there and let it clean you, making a noise that could be a purr but actually sounds much more like a very soft chainsaw. (You know how chainsaws sound because of movies, obviously. You have seen _so many movies_.)

"Mutie!" a voice calls out. "Muuuuu- oh, there you are!"

And you meet her. The second troll you've ever seen in person in your life. She's smaller than Jeyden was, slimmer, but her rumble spheres are much more pronounced (not that you're looking, though! You are a _gentletroll_!) and there's a curvature from waist to hip that could warp spacetime, probably. (Not that you're looking.) She's a lighter shade of grey, her chin more narrow and pointed, and - 

Oh. She has finned ears. She has gills. Oh. She's a seadweller.

Technically, you knew that they could come here, to the island. Once when you were very small, you remember loud voices in the night, Jeyden arguing fiercely with a male voice that had a seadweller's drawling accent. You don't remember what he said, only that Jeyden was angry, that she didn't want to see him or his ilk on her island. He could remember Becquerel's barks, chasing the intruder off.

Speaking of, where _was_ that blasted dog? He wasn't really _your_ lusus, of course, but after yours met its untimely demise soon after leaving the hatching grounds, Jeyden managed to convince him to take you on. You don't know how, really. You suppose you'll never truly understand the relationship between lusus and pupa, but it's enough that he tolerates you, lets you occupy Jeyden's house and touch her things. He hunts on his own now, though, and you get the feeling that when he strifes with you, he means it.

You're about to flip the fuck out when she sees you, but instead of the reaction you're expecting, she smiles. A nice smile, the kind with not too many teeth and something warm in her eyes, eyes that haven't yet flooded with color, though they would undoubtedly be violet. Obviously. There's only two princesses, and they hit adult molt at least a sweep ago. 

"Hi! I'm Roxy. Well, Roxana, but that's _way_ too long, haha! Have you seen a lusus around here somewhere?"

You shake your head, dazed. You don't understand what's happening here; all the movies you've ever watched have not prepared you for this.

"Oh, well. I'm sure she'll turn up somewhere. You'd think having a lusus that couldn't swim would make it easy to keep track of her, but noooo. Purrbeasts are the worst!" She flops down next to you, like you're old friends. "What's your name?"

Jeyken, you tell her. Against your better judgment, you tell her about Becquerel, too, and then about your real lusus, the dead one, and how you never knew her name. You tell her about Jeyden.

"Ohh. Well, yeah. Actually, I did kind of know that. The guy who owns the island made it _pret-ty clear_ to the other fish trolls that this place was off-limits. Said some crazy lowblood had taken over. But, you know, all things considered, I think that meant he actually kind of liked her. Usually, he would've just..."

She trails off, and you give her a perplexed sort of look. She lifts an eyebrow and draws one clawed frondtip across her talkstem.

Oh.

"Gosh. Well. I'm jolly glad he didn't. All things considered." It takes you a long minute before you finally think to ask, "...so then, why are you here now? Should I be worried?"

Her light peal of laughter makes you feel flustered and awkward. You realize at this juncture that your only guide for how to interact with other trolls is from movies, and movies haven't taught you a dangblasted thing.

"Oh, honey, no. I'm in the same boat as you! Well, island, I guess, haha. I'm sort of in hiding! That's all I can really say about it, tho, which suxx cos you're actually kinda cool and stuff and I hate keeping secrets from my friends. But I made a promise, and I don't break those, either, sooo. I guess you'll just have to wonder."

Her eyes sparkle. You're stunned again, stunned that she somehow thinks you're _cool_ (which you cannot fathom for the life of you) and also, that she called you her _friend_. You want to have a friend, you want so suddenly and badly to be slightly less alone out here, and if there's some sort of big secret she's hiding - well, it seems that she might be on the lacking side, when it comes to building something that may someday be crew.

(Crew movies are your favorites, which is saying something, because you have many, many favorites. You just love the idea of it, that quadrants may come and go, red and black can flip and flare and fade, but a crew will always be connected, will always have one another. Were you more anthropologically inclined, you would be fascinated by the cultural benefit of crew bonding, an important counterweight to the inherently violent nature of trolls - but you don't really have the patience for prolonged intellectual discourse and instead just find the group antics to be hilarious.)

"I suppose I will," you say. "I do hope you will continue our acquaintance so that I may keep wondering. If you wish," you add quickly, because she's still _nobility_ and goodness gracious you would never want her to think you were being presumptuous.

But no, not at all, apparently. She just smiles, rather on the soft and happy side, and says, "I'd really, really like that, Jeyk."

And that is how you meet Roxy, and through her, your destiny.


	2. we've been walking a thin line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Botheration. You've only been an adult for half a sweep and you're already more confused than you'd ever been as a larva. You just hope Dirrik has some answers.

TG: sweet larva troll jegus shes still here   
EB: who??   
TG: oh shit i didnt tell you did i   
TG: fuck   
TG: my bro   
TG: he comes in practically at dawn with his arms full of passed the fuck out fish troll   
TG: repeat: passed the fuck out   
TG: fish   
TG: troll   
TG: and he tosses her in his coon like its nbd and he does this every day   
EB: wow. uh. you know, i don't even think i want to know?   
TT: well good bc i wouldnt have an answer for you anyway   
TG: like what the fuck all he said was some hoofbeastshit about not being that kind of girl   
TG: typical fuckin bro   
TG: i was hoping if i stayed in my coon til midnight shed be gone and i wouldnt have to deal with this   
EB: did you actually manage it? haha, you totally did, didn't you   
TG: what do you fuckin think   
TG: srsly jman who do you think i am   
EB: i think you're who you've always been, of course!   
EB: but, wow, you must be seriously blissed out right now! how are you even angry about this?   
TG: thats just it   
TG: im not   
TG: but that in itself pisses me off because i know i should be angry   
TG: but my heads just one big green slime puddle of YEAH MAN ITS ALL COOL JUST BE COOL   
TG: ugh theyre laughing   
TG: its so gross   
TG: how does he even know a fish troll anyway   
EB: if i didn't know better, i'd say that someone sounded... pretty jealous!   
TG: who me???   
EB: but i do know better   
TG: im not jealous   
TG: i am a still fucking lake of    
TG: oh   
TG: well   
TG: ok then   
EB: B) i should think i know you pretty well by now, m8   
TG: well lets not get carried away here   
TG: i mean obviously were destined to be the best of bros that could ever friendbro   
TG: but   
EB: dev. shut up.   
EB: we may have never met in person but i'm pretty darn sure that we're crew!   
TG: uh.   
EB: are you surprised? i've known for a while now!   
EB: or is it the age thing?? because i can't really help with that, but if it's any comfort my 'rail's pretty sure i was brain damaged as a grub and never aged past two   
EB: which   
TG: jon   
EB: i pretty much agree with her   
TG: jonath   
TG: shut your fucking windchute   
TG: for two seconds   
TG: and listen to me   
TG: ...............................   
TG: okay   
TG: no   
TG: its not the age thing you massive grubchaser   
TG: weve been pretty well over this   
TG: i dont give a spectacular flying fuck about that   
TG: but i guess its sort of related   
TG: its just the way that everyone talks about the molt   
TG: like   
TG: how can i make plans for anything thatll keep   
TG: when i dont even know if im going to be the same fucking person afterwards   
EB: dev.   
EB: listen to me.   
EB: when you molt... yeah, things change.   
EB: that is not a thing that i would disagree on.   
EB: but who you are is not one of them!   
EB: um, okay, for example   
EB: when vris and i were pupas, we sort of flipflopped around all sorts of quadrants, with each other and our friends. our crew. and for the most part, when we flirted, it was flush!   
TG: oh my gog what   
TG: thats   
TG: wow   
TG: but you two are like   
TG: the palest that ever paled   
EB: i know! but we didn't know that until we molted   
EB: we could smell all this red closeness on each other, i guess, but we were young and packed full of pre-molt hormones!   
EB: but after the molt   
EB: we looked at each other and it was just this awkward laughter   
EB: as we realized, wow, we don't actually want to hit the couch   
EB: and okay yeah it was weird for a while and we didn't know how things were gonna fall   
EB: but when she and her matesprit met   
EB: it was like. bam   
EB: and she knew   
EB: and i wasn't jealous, or angry, or full of devious auspiticisism! i was happy, and excited, and i did totally pity her, still, but oh man! wow! pale realization!   
EB: and that is how that became a thing :B   
TG: wow not that that wasnt totally fucking fascinating and all but   
TG: how is that even remotely comforting   
EB: oh! i guess i missed that bit, haha   
EB: where i was going with that was   
EB: i didn't stop feeling close to any of my friends after we molted   
EB: they were my friends! we were all a little different but we still really liked each other!   
EB: but some of those feelings, especially quadrant-y ones, kind of... settled better   
EB: they just looked different from our shiny new carapace'd perception   
EB: does that make sense??   
TG: yeah i guess   
TG: but now i have a whole new fucking set of worries like   
TG: what if i come out of the chrysalis and it turns out ive been waxing pitch black for you this whole time and it was only my nubile young form that made me see you as completely dorky and ridiculous??   
TG: i would die   
TG: of shame   
TG: jonath i would die   
EB: hahahaha deeeeeeeev   
EB: trust me   
EB: that wont happen ;B

Your name is Dehvid Stridr and you have no fucking idea what's going on.

Seriously, you can't even remember how it all started - this weird thing you have with an _adult_ holy trollcrist - you're pretty sure Trollian being a massive titlord was involved, though. It usually is. Anyway, you wouldn't even have bothered except, hello, you don't just say 'fuckit' when an adult highblood starts trolling you.

And trolling you and trolling you - seriously, Jonath either has no life or actually _is_ interested in your nubile young form, though to be honest you're not sure which one would weird you out more (hint: it's neither). Mostly, that's because he's a _serious dweeb_ , and within a handful of conversations you were joking around like old buddies. For a while you were terrified that it was all a ploy to hold some shit over your head, that any second now he'd be leveraging you for blackmail, but as the perigees passed and conversation rambled on, you gradually began to relax your guard. To let a little of yourself out, in return for how much he's done the same.

There are still plenty of things you don't know about him. His title, for one. He's been pretty adamant about you not looking him up in the Imperial Database, and you might have pressed harder about it, but that would involve actually telling your bro you're basically crewflirting with a blueblooded troll who's been post-molt for so many sweeps he's lost count. (Actually, he didn't, he told you a number and said it was within five sweeps of that, which you guess is more of the database avoidance thing, but anyway it's hella. The number is basically _hella_.) Yeah, how about no.

So he won't tell you his title or his exact age, but you literally don't give a fuck because he told you his name. His grubname, the one most adult trolls keep under lock and key with the threat of death to any who attempt to find it. _That_ name. And yeah, maybe it's because you had to call him something and he wanted to avoid the title, but. Shit, names are for _quadrants_.

You still don't know what he wants from you, and this time is the first time you've ever even come close to talking about it. You were just fucking around, you always fuck around, always flirt and layer the irony like fine ass cake and you _both know_ it's just a joke. A big joke. All of it. Right.

And then he fucking goes and says he thinks of you as crew. That he's _pretty darn sure_.

Haha, you're going to throw up.

You abscond to the ablution chamber when you hear the fish troll make another one of her giggling laughs. Right, you had actually wanted to _talk_ to Jonath about that, but instead got derailed and bogged down in the giant stinking emotional morass of being a massive wiggler. Ugh, could you get any more juvenile? Whine whine whine I'm gonna come out of my chrysalis and no one will love me anymore! Past you, man, what an ignoramus. You are so done with that guy's shit.

But here's the thing. You're seven sweeps old. Your bro is nine. Come next sweep, he's headed off to the nearest swarmpod to build his chrysalis, and you... you'll be alone. All alone. 

All alone with your pre-molt hormones, which is apparently a thing. A thing that makes you really want to stick your dick in stuff. Like nookholes. Like maybe a certain troll's. Like. Ugh.

The worst part is that you don't even know what he looks like, not really. You know he wears glasses. That he has an overbite, and it tears up his lips sometimes. (You may or may not think too much about lips smeared blue with his blood.) He's said that his horns are 'hard to describe' but 'not very big'. 

But mostly, you just don't care what he looks like. You want to put your hands all over him. You want to make him totally lose it. You pity his dumb ass but you don't want to save him, you want to... well. You want to be his.

Fuck, you're such an oozing piece of treeblood. Gross. Hey, look, someone else is trolling you.

Oh hell no not this shithead.

CG: HEY. DEV.   
CG: PROXIS TO DEV. WAKE THE FUCK UP, DEV.   
CG: WAIT WHY WOULD YOU EVEN BE SLEEPING THIS LATE OH WAIT PROBABLY BECAUSE YOU'RE AN ADDLEPANNED FUCKHEAD   
CG: YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE DRINKING THE STUFF IS ALL I'M SAYING.   
TG: dude chill the fuck out im right here   
TG: i was just talking to jonath   
CG: OH FUCK THAT. FUCK HIM. FUCK HIM IN HIS GROWN UP INDIGO GENITALS. WHY DO YOU EVEN DEAL WITH HIS SHIT??   
TG: well hes at least 500% less aggravating than you   
TG: and even that could be a serious understatement   
TG: were talking unreal levels of percentage here   
TG: nookloads of zeroes   
TG: more zeroes than you can shake a treefinger at   
CG: OKAY OKAY I GIVE UP JUST STOP   
CG: CALM YOUR FRONDSMASHING   
CG: THIS IS IMPORTANT   
TG: no screw that its my turn i win   
TG: its about crew bs so maybe youll actually give a shit   
TG: jonath used actual words and said hes 'pretty sure' im crew   
TG: i dont know what to fucking think   
CG: OH FUCK NO, NOT THIS, I AM NOT BEING YOUR SHITTY QUADRANT COUNSELOR.   
CG: GO TALK TO TZ OR SOMETHING YOU KNOW SHE DIGS THIS ALMOST AS MUCH AS SHE DIGS OUR FINE MUTANT ASSES.   
CG: WHO KNOWS MAYBE SHE CAN CONVINCE YOU WHAT A FINE FUCKING SHITSTORM OF AN IDEA THIS THING WITH JONATH IS.   
CG: IF ANYONE KNOWS HOW MISERABLE IT IS BEING YOUR MATESPRIT, IT'S HER.   
TG: are you done   
TG: were not bringing terezi into this   
TG: id ask if you were pandamaged but im pretty sure thats the most useless fucking question i already know the answer to   
TG: no   
TG: also fuck no   
TG: and whatever we were never really flush we were just screwing around   
TG: screwing around in a massive plush pile of none of your fucking business   
TG: ive decided   
TG: im gonna do it   
CG: WHAT THE FRESH GRUBFUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT NOW.   
TG: im gonna court the highblood   
CG: NO   
CG: JEGUS   
CG: DEV   
CG: DO NOT DO THE THING. DO NOT COURT THE HIGHBLOOD.   
CG: ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE.   
CG: DOES HE EVEN KNOW?? ABOUT YOUR MUTATION????   
TG: actually yeah   
TG: because unlike some people im not a massive wiggler about it   
CG: AND NOT JUST HEMOTYPING I MEAN ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT IT   
CG: WITH WORDS   
CG: STRAIGHT FROM YOUR PALMFRONDS TO THE KEYBOARD TO SPLASH OVER HIS SCREEN IN A DISGUSTINGLY UNAMBIGUOUS RED VOMIT OF SASS.   
TG: well   
TG: not really   
TG: i didnt think it needed to be said   
CG: UGH, FUCK ME. FUCK YOU. WHY IS MY BEST FRIEND SUCH A FUCKING TOOL. DON'T ANSWER THAT.   
CG: JUST   
CG: TELL HIM, OKAY?   
CG: BEFORE YOU DECIDE TO WAX YOUR TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE FLUSH CRUSH ALL OVER HIS FINE MOLTED CARAPACE.   
CG: STRIDR?   
CG: ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???

Before you can determine whether that question really deserves being dignified with a response, you stop being Dehvid Stridr. You are now the other guy.

+

Or girl, whatever. It's not like it matters. Aren't trolls genders sort of arbitrary? You all have the same equipment, after all!

This is a topic you feel passionately about, as your chosen profession tends to be one in which males are considered to excel. Not that you would ever be banned from it! But, well, females in general are traditionally thought to be so much more dominant and aggressive, and with the size of your rumble spheres... well, assumptions tend to be made. Were you of a more noble blood color, you would likely never be able to speak to a lowblood without them cowering instinctively. As it is, you inspire only the slightest bit more terror than you wish to, but bear the additional burden of the higher classes frowning upon your choice of careers.

Never mind that the Condesce herself is an accomplished batterwitch! Never mind that she - 

Well, you aren't quite sure what to say on that particular subject. Which brings you to the present moment, and the conversation you are about to have.

GG: Dirk? Are you there?   
TT: Kind of.   
GG: Kind of?? It seems to me that you are, indeed, here, or how else would you be responding to my trolls?? :B   
TT: Fair point, but I could easily have written a subroutine to respond to any incoming trolls, with an AI patterned after my own brainwaves so no one could tell the difference.   
GG: ...That is the most preposterous waste of time I have ever heard of.   
GG: Why would you even do something like that in the first place??   
TT: To fuck with people, mostly.   
TT: What's up?   
GG: Oh! Really, if you're busy, it's nothing at all. Just wanted to vent a little, I suppose.   
TT: Batterwitch up to her witchy ways?   
GG: Now, Dirrik! I am not that predictable that every time I need to vent, it's about her!   
GG: And don't call her that, she's an Heiress first and foremost and you should respect her title.   
TT: Whatever. Is it about Her Imperiousness or what?   
GG: ...As a matter of pure coincidence, it is.   
TT: Uh huh. Coincidence. Right. Sounds a lot more like serendipity to me.   
GG: Dirrik! Stridr! For the last time, I am not flirting with the Condesce! And if I was, which I most certainly AM NOT, it would be an incredibly stupid and potentially deadly thing to do!!   
GG: She is after all the Heiress and I am but a lowly Battermaid!!   
GG: Plus I have already borne the brunt of one assassination attempt this perigee, it would surely end all too swiftly if she truly decided to single me out.   
TT: Wait, back up. What assassination attempt??   
GG: Oh, dear. No, it's nothing, please don't worry about it.   
GG: It was a relatively small bomb.

It is at this point you toss down your handheld computing device in aggravation. Why must he always be so pushy? Pushy, pushy! If the Condesce ever found out that you let yourself get pushed around by a lowblood, let alone a male, let _alone_ one who hadn't even molted yet...

Oh, who are you kidding. Meenah and Dirrik would probably get along fabulously. She would be all too easily won over by his bravery and sass, two elements which you find yourself severely lacking in. Not that you're trying to win her over, or anything. Of course not!!

But really, you think as you sigh and retrieve your clam-shaped device, her actions as of late have been worrying. And puzzling, to say the least. For example, there's the whole bit where you know her grubname, now. And she yours. Of course, with her clearance she could have looked it up in the Imperial Database so that part isn't as mortifying as it might have been, but she didn't, did she? She asked. And you told her.

Then there was the whole thing with the bomb.

She made it look like you were saving her, which she ribbed you about mercilessly. Continual condescending ribbing is just something one has to get used to, as a crewmember on the Battleship Condescension (but not _crew_ crew, goodness all this terminology is confusing), so you made the best of it, but you later found out through your exceptional sleuthing skills (you are quite a fan of legislacerators, though a more idealized version than of reality) you discovered that it was, in fact, the Condesce herself that set it all up. Which could have been quite an explicit concupiscent solicitation! Except for the part where you aren't exactly sure she wanted you to find out.

Botheration. You've only been an adult for half a sweep and you're already more confused than you'd ever been as a larva. You just hope Dirrik has some answers.

TT: Whjgnhh   
TT: ffjkdl??s8   
TT: no STOP put that shit down   
TT: haha no   
TT: fucjkdlg

Well that is just completely beyond anything resembling words that rhyme with 'ail'.

GG: Stridr? What's going on?   
TT: hahaaaa omgg its mine now deal w/ it   
TT: oh gross eff this color   
TT: much better!! hi hon my names roxy who r u???

Well, this is. This... is unexpected. To say the least.

GG: Well, hello, Roxy! I'm assuming that's a nickname! I don't quite know if I should be telling you this, but you seem to be close to Dirrik, so I'm going to take a small leap of faith and trust you with this.   
GG: I hope you understand how difficult it usually is for me to do this!

It isn't, you tit, you just told her fucking imperiousness not more than two days ago.

GG: I am Jainne. It's good to meet you, whoever you are.   
TT: jainne?? omg!! thats such a cute name i bet youre the cutest lil troll evr!!! r u a tealblood? thats like one of the best colors i stg its just so pretty   
GG: Well, as a matter of fact I am.   
GG: May I ask the same, if you don't mind? Your color has me quite consternated!   
TT: omgggg u speak like a yg this is the absolut BUEST   
TT: * besh   
TT: omg * best   
TT: well tbh its not rly hemotyping i just like this shade a lot   
TT: but i am a fish troll so yah   
TT: close nuff

You don't know what to say to this.

GG: I don't quite know what to say to that! You seem very, um...   
TT: not totally in fucking sane??   
TT: haha i kno   
TT: i had some weird shit happen 2 me but w/e alls u need 2 kno is    
TT: im p fucinkg awesum   
TT: ah fukc   
TT: looks like dstri wants his beep boop back

Beep... boop?

TT: Wow that broad is shithive maggots.   
TT: Also, she has bony as fuck elbows.   
TT: So, you were telling me about your pitch problems?   
GG: Hold on. I've got another troll.

TG: hii jainney its me roxycakes   
TG: i figurird, since we are both just cool peeps n all, why not b freinds??   
TG: we culd be like BFFS 4EVAR u kno???   
TG: dstri is a cool dude an all but if u ass me us girls need 2 stick togetha   
TG: plusss   
TG: u know condy   
GG: Is that who I think it is?   
TG: her most imperiousesest biznatch?? yah prob   
TG: neway tell her next time u see her that roxy says yo   
TG: also   
TG: that shes a HUGE BITCH   
GG: I will do no such thing!!!

+

You stop being that girl, so you can be the other girl, because strangely enough, this story about both of you, too.

You would just LOVE to go into all sorts of in depth speculayshuns about your questionable upbringing, as well as your hobbies and interests, but oh, look at that! You're being trolled.

GT: Roxana!!   
GT: Goodness gracious i completely lost your signal for a while there old girl!   
GT: You wandered off on me last night, i do hope you didn't find a way to imbibe any more of that pink sugary stuff you seadwellers are fond of   
GT: That being said i was quite out of the picture myself due to unforeseen circumstances involving FISTICUFFS, and also ADVENTURES!   
GT: Roxy?   
TG: JEYEYYYKKKkk hi   
TG: wait fiststicssfuffs omg wat did u do    
TG: pls tell me you didnt beat p that dued who was hitting on u!!! i told yu he wouldnt do anything he was, what, amber?? ogre?? wht the fuck is that collor called anyway   
TG: w/e its friggin yellow   
TG: which means he wasnt gonna do shit   
GT: What, no, nothing of the sort   
GT: Actually, to be quite honest it wasn't really a fight at all   
GT: In fact it was not even worth talking about! Never mind!   
GT: What about you, where are you??   
TG: oh!! shit!! jeyk u gotta come here   
TG: this hive is THA BEST   
TG: like ok it could use some more wizards but imo everything culd use more wizards   
TG: but shittt   
TG: also ths dude who took me here is hells of hot   
TG: u would be all over this like frigglish on mousebeast i am tellin ya   
GT: We have been through this miss roxana, I do not share your appreciation for, how was it you phrased it earlier? "Choice hunks of trollmeat"?   
TG: fucckckkk yeahh   
TG: look hes not blue an he doesnt have rumble spheres but fuck that just get ovr here

You should probably ask your host first, but you get totally distracted when Dirrik's adorable hivemate comes wandering out into the room, stupid with sopor. What a c u t i e! You just kind of want to pat him on the head and squash him to your ample bosoms! Which are not necessarily ample per se but they are wonderfully curvy and you like them. Besides, any bigger and they would cover your second gillset, and where would you be then? Dead, that's what.

"Hi!" you exclaim, bouncing over to him. "I'm Roxy!"

"Fuck off," he says, but the excess sopor makes his words sound all fuzzy and adorable. "Bro, help."

Dirrik gives the little guy an arch look that you totally translate instantly: No, also, Hell No. "Dev, meet Roxy. Roxy, Dev."

"Hey there!" Oh mannn he's just so _little_. And _warm_. You've met burgundybloods before but something doesn't quite seem the same with him, some... tone, or something. But really, who are you to judge?

Someone who's got a lot of secrets, that's who! Before can you can even begin to speculayte on these terrific secrets, the doorbug chitters. Looks like Jeyk managed to hone in on your signal! Oh man, this is going to be _the best_.

+

Your name is ~~Jainne Croker~~ BATTERMAID VITALISE. You work on the Battleship Condescension, and despite your unthinkably low SWEEP COUNT, you are a personal Battermaid to THE CONDESCE HERSELF.

Mostly because, in her words, your requisite wriggling day cake was literally the worst fin I ever put in my foodchute and dont u dare leave my kitchen until u surf up somefin edibubble ya hear me

So, here you are, the absolute youngest Battertroll in the Imperial Bakechelon, and you know the Heiress's true name.

It's just you and her in the evenings, as she yells away most of the servwaiters and you are pretty much too stubborn to leave. She stares down your baking, as usual. Then you. Then the baking.

You stare right the fuck back. You don't take shit from anyone, not even an empress-to-be.

"Whats this bullcarp supposed to be," she asks, but she's already picking up her spoon and digging in.

"Werme Brulee," you tell her anyway, even though you know she knows because she's climbed all the Battertiers, all of them. "Adapted from a -- "

"I know what it is, stupid," she cuts you off with, and you just blithely carry on.

" --rousian recipe, since, as we all know --"

"Conquer the nation, take the cake. I glubbin know!"

She looks mad enough to start tossing tridents. You're trying not to smile.

"Meenah."

Your use of her grubname shuts her up in a hot second, and she simmers the fuck down. You notice that she's still eating your dish. "Yeah?"

"Someone gave me a message to pass on to you."

Her black brows shoot up - hard to see on her dark post-molt skin, but you may have been paying a little too much attention to the nuances of her face. "Why the grubfuck would anenomeone do somefin like that?"

You wait. Let her brows fall and press together in an angry little crinkle above the bridge of her goggles. 

"Well, all she said was to tell you - Roxy says 'yo'.

"Oh, and that you're a HUGE BITCH."


End file.
